Madness and Motorcycles
by Aenigmatic
Summary: A quiet weekend in a small town brings more than motorcycle exhaust into Jane Foster's life. Who else can possible be responsible for the wake of destruction when he sweeps into town? None other than Loki Laufeyson, obviously. AU.


_A/N: I can't get the idea of Loki in leather and a Harley out of my head, so out came this (unedited and impulsive) stupid drabble. And as usual, it always comes out just on the side of R-rated and absolutely crazy as I never intended. But because it's Lokane, anything is possible. Written originally for the Tumblr Lokaners. You know who you are._

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**Madness** **and** **Motorcycles**

In a span of two hours, they'd gone from hostile bitch-slaps (hers) to fierce arguing (he started it) to name-calling (her again) to a point where she found his tongue poking enthusiastically in her mouth (they were both guilty).

That, ladies and gentleman, was what Darcy Lewis would have proudly proclaimed as spontaneous combustion.

Not that Jane Foster had ever really known what that really meant, since it had been a while – _okay, never_ – since she'd been on the receiving end of this very new and addictive sensation of skin metaphorically going up in flames that could only be extinguished after an extended horizontal tango on any hardwood floor.

She certainly wasn't complaining about the fluttery sensations that Loki evoked with the very clever swirl-suck thing he was expertly doing. So expertly in fact, that she had already forgotten that he had a brother (a cool, surfer champion dude with a trust fund who spent loads of time in Australia combing the beaches) whom she thought she was actually nuts about after she'd seen him dashing into the cold surf in neon orange shorts on a hot summer's day.

But then, Jane had never met his little brother. Had never even known Thor Odinson had one, until an argument that had involved familial issues (apparently Loki had many daddy issues) had escalated into-

Jane still couldn't wrap her head around that one. That just had to be too big of a coincidence. Except that it wasn't.

Up until an hour ago, Loki Laufeyson could have easily been a figment of her imagination who wreaked havoc through a series of coastal towns of the east coast with his heavily-tattooed biker bad boys and an alarming trail of groupies that couldn't get enough of their mysterious, badass leader who'd always managed to elude the authorities. The news tended to report his antics a tad too dramatically as he always left the law enforcement furiously choking in the wake of his exhaust fumes as they tried to pick their way through the chaos that always followed him.

If he was the quintessential bad boy, then all those she'd encountered in high school had merely been classless wannabes who only talked the talk. This man walked it, and then some. His usual forms of entertainment could probably only be found on the wrong side of the law. And damn if her dormant bad-girl side (it surfaced occasionally when she swapped telescope parts with a lab partner whom she hated so that he'd get false readings) hadn't been gleefully cheering that one.

Even the female news anchors and reporters, as Jane has always suspected, were a little too in love with him that their damning broadcasts had actually managed to sound like verbal love-sick notes that begged him to turn up at their doorsteps for media interviews.

Of course, Loki never showed up where he was expected to.

And yet, he had shown up here, in this tiny, forgotten town, not ninety minutes ago, as though he knew just what – or _who_ – he was looking for.

When he'd finally grabbed her after the brawl, looking rather appealing despite the broken skin around the knuckles and the red imprint of her slap on his face, the last, coherent thought Jane had before he bent her over the counter was that Darcy would be cheering her on.

To explain her ridiculous response to him, Jane blamed the bike he rode for her equally enthusiastic response to that drugging kiss that didn't seem to be ending even after a full ten minutes of sucking face. Or maybe she'd always had a thing for Harleys, the tassels and all that leather. Who knew the combination of green, black and gold was a killer one?

In some small, functioning part of her head, she made a mental note to decorate her lab and maybe even her room in those specific shade that looked, well, too imperial on the dangerous leader of this bike gang. Even the bar fight that had managed to trash the counter and all the stools had even been a mortifying turn-on, if she were to be honest.

That he was a certified, psycho badass actually helped complete the whole package.

The impulsive weekend trip back to small town where she'd spent a few years of her childhood was paying off big time. As an added bonus, it was providing entertainment that had been far beyond what her logical, scientific brain had needed. Of course, it would be sometime before Jane managed to unravel the string of events that led up to this, but right now, there was clearly something more important that was taking up most, if not all of her attention.

She loved the hint of breathlessness that she heard coming from his chest when they finally broke for air.

And she was about to open her mouth again to get a word in edgewise when Loki moved her under the free-flowing beer that was raining over their heads from a broken pipe and continued his ministrations under her skirt-

It was with some effort that Jane separated her mouth from his delectable one to grit out something so regretfully practical.

"There's got to be a back room somewhere."

And that was probably as forward as she would ever get.

The equanimity in his glittering green gaze hadn't changed one bit as he simply raised an eyebrow at her. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Her brain stuttered to a stop. _Oh lord. Was he actually talking about-_

"You don't mean-" She trailed off uncertainly and looked at the unconscious bodies in various states of injuries that lay near the door. The bar was eerily quiet after the brawl that had had Loki single-handedly taking down WWF-type looking men and other members of a rival gang who simply had the misfortune of turning up at the same place Loki's gang had chosen for their watering hole.

His biker boys had even been considerate enough to pile some of them up near the entrance so that anyone who wanted to interrupt all the hot-and-heavy they'd both gotten going under the bar counter actually had to get past that mess first.

She'd probably thank them later when she could think properly.

"I mean every word I say, Jane."

She gulped. There wasn't any doubt there that he was serious. But this was going to be more than a challenge for her. A small step for Loki Laufeyson, clearly – who probably got off on danger –, but a damn great leap for her.

"The beer's getting sticky on my skin," she protested lamely and gestured to the pipe that had finally stopped gushing copious amounts of Samuel Adams onto her forehead and into her hair.

A smirk slid across his face, an expression that she'd come to be quite well acquainted with in the past hour. "So remove your clothes and you'll feel better."

"No! Not here, no way. I'm not-"

Loki wasn't listening. Because in the next second, he'd unbuttoned his own overcoat, his vest and the plain, tight-fitting white tee-shirt and flung them to the floor, leaving on only his multiple biker gang accessories and mementos and a very wicked pair of leather pants that clung to his skin in all the right places.

"Far be it from me to say that I never lead by example, Jane," he told her calmly. "Now, it's your turn."

"You forgot to take off your pants," she said stupidly as she stared at his pale and surprisingly muscular torso, then smacked herself mentally for lacking the appropriate intelligence that was needed in such situations.

Apparently it was exactly what he wanted to hear as his smirk widened into a grin. "I thought you'd like the honour of doing so."

To kiss in public was one thing. To cross the line of public decency was another. But then, since when had Loki cared about the latter? He did what he wanted, whenever he wanted. And damn him, that was the very influence that she didn't need, thank you ver-

"-or I shall make the decision for you."

_No, no, he wouldn't-_

The harsh sound of ripping fabric made her yelp. She looked up to see the remains of her cotton blouse flying across the bar to land on the drooling face of some comatose man who had long gone to his happy place.

Oh, _fuck_ it.

She threw all caution to the wind and gave his leather pants the same treatment as outrage and excitement fuelled the strength behind her movements.

"Such wanton actions," he shook his head mockingly at her, mischief clearly written in his eyes. "Utterly worthy of a biker girl-"

Why the hell was he still talking?

"Shut up and kiss me."

It was a command he was smart enough to obey.

- Fin


End file.
